Behind Enemy Lines
by freyasakura
Summary: What do bombs, a french pastry, and opera glasses have in common? Looks like someones about to find out. Companion to The One Who Made Him Smile.
1. Prolougue

**I must be insane to try this pairing. But I was born insane.**

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"Okaa-san! Tell me a story about Grand-mère and Oyaji!"

The speaker was a young man, of about seventeen. He'd just abandoned a game he was playing with his puppy, and was now marching his way across the emerald green lawn to an auburn-haired woman who was leaning against a Japanese Maple, colored red with hints of orange and yellow to match the season.

"Well then, come sit down, mon petit enfant."

The woman spoke this time, utilizing a cool voice, before closing the book she had been reading. It was a classic and well-worn out. "The Time-Traveler's Wife." She'd received it as a gift from her "auntie", accompanied by another, slightly different in shape and size, book, which had been resting by her side. She now scooped it up, revealing several places where the book was dog-eared.

"Okaa-san, I'm not a little boy anymore. And what is that?"

Curiosity aroused, the young man plopped down, then watched as his mother smiled, an act that normally ran shivers down his spine.

"A story ma mère and ma tante wrote together. One of three stories inside is the story of how tes grands-parents met. I must go check on the preparations for the party, but here. Read it, it's the second story in there. Then read the other two in there, okay? You'll like them."

That said, the woman smiled once more, fluttering her eyes closed and revealing small crow's feet, before standing up and striding away, long hair floating behind her. Turning his turquoise eyes, the same color as his mother's, towards the book, he began to read.

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**Author's Note:

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**Translations:

Okaa-san = Mother

Grand-mère = Grandmother

Oyaji = Old man (in this case, grandpa)

Mon petit enfant = My little child

Ma mère = my mother

ma tante = my aunt

tes grands-parents = your grandparents (informal use)

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Peoples, I need your honest opinion. I will be using alot of French in this story as it's based in French, so do you want the translations in brackets within the text, at the bottom like I'm doing here, or to just have everything in English? Please tell! 


	2. Qui avonsnous ici?

**Bonjour! Qu'est-ce tu es? Alright, first chapitre starts now!

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Chapitre Un: What Have We Here?

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**

"Mademoiselle! Votre père veut vous parler!"

The maid's voice rang loud and clear, and I looked up from the piano I was sitting at with Mademoiselle Grantaine. I'd finally taken up piano after returning from Japan, and under her guidance was excelling at it.

"Aussi, votre courrier est arrivé!"

"I understand. I will see my father after I set my mail in my study then."

I took the envelopes from the maid and proceeded to cross the room towards the double oak doors, opening them to reveal my favorite room in the house besides the kitchen. It was large, with rich dark oak paneling and a plush red carpet. Colorful books lined the built-in shelves covering two walls. On the wall to my right was an ornate black granite fireplace, with two red wing-back chairs and a cream chaise lounge surrounding it. Across the room from the fireplace were black French doors, which led to a balcony overlooking the estate. Father had allowed me the room as he said the view was distracting, because you could see the tables, lake, and garden from the balcony.

I quickly laid down the mail next to my black laptop and was about to walk away, when one of the letters caught my eye. _Not again. _I dislodged it from the stack and pulled it out, sliding the letter from its housing to read what the paper said:

**Die Bitch Die.**

That was it. Nothing else. Clearly, someone had cut the letters from a magazine or two. Disgusted, I threw them into the locked drawer of my cherry wood desk, before retreating to the hallway and walking to my father's office at the other side of the house. When I reached the intricately carved doors, I glared at the lions adorning it before knocking them in the head. "Enter," a deep voice rang loud and clear. I cautiously opened the door.

"Ah. My dearest daughter, thank you for coming."

"I will always come when you call, Father."

"Yes, of course. I am sure you are wondering why I called you, no?"

"Who wouldn't wonder, especially with the renovations going on in the bedroom next to their own. No one will tell me anything, so it is only natural I should wonder."

"It is that curiosity that sets you far above your brother. But if you must know, starting tomorrow, we will be entertaining a guest. He wishes to study at the law school in your university, and as his father and I are good friends, I offered to let him stay here where I can keep an eye on him."

"This isn't just another scheme to hire a bodyguard for me, is it, Father?"

"Oh heavens no, child, certainly not." His denial couldn't hide the slight nervousness in his voice. _I knew it._ "Be a dear, darling, and pick up our guest tomorrow from the airport. He's coming from Japan, so some of the maids may not understand him."

_Japan?_ The thought of what had gone down in that country still made my stomach twist a little, but I never-the-less complied. "As you wish, father."

"Merci beaucoup, Éclair."

"If you'll excuse me, I must get back to my lessons."

"Of course, of course. Maybe one day you will play for your old man, hmm?"

"I would like that very much. Have a good day, Father."

"And you as well, chérie."

Having said that, I retired to my rooms.

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The next day had me getting up at the God-forsaken hour of nine a.m., taking a quick shower, getting dressed, applying make-up, and styling my hair, in order to be in the car by ten and at the airport by ten forty-five for the visitor's eleven o'clock arrival. It was so fast I had to eat Nana's breakfast in the car, and almost spilled my frozen latté six times. To top it all off, I had no idea what the mystery person looked like, let alone his name. I had a sinking suspicion, however, that my driver/ personal butler Paul knew, which was only confirmed when he said "there he is," and started walking away. I look over to where he was headed, and then did a double-take as I saw who was towering over the other passengers. _Morinozuka Takashi_.

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**Author's Note:

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**Translations:

Mademoiselle! Votre père veut vous parler! = Miss! Your father wants to speak to you!

Aussi, votre courrier est arrivé! = Also, your mail has arrived!

Merci beaucoup = Thank you very much

chérie = dear

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So how is it so far? Please review! I need honest feedback, 'cause I'm kinda pioneering this pairing here! All input welcome!

Question: How many bodyguards do you think she's gone through?


	3. L'aéroport

**Special thanks to Quee for reviewing. Short chapter, but I'm supposed to be doing research for a paper due tomorrow. Ugh, no info, and this pops into my head to distract me. Oh well, you guys lucked out. Enjoy!

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**

Quick notes:

_«Insert talking» = denotes French taking place_

**"Insert talking"** = denotes English taking place

"Insert talking" = denotes Japanese taking place

**

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Chapitre Deux: The Airport  


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**"Morinozuka-san, how are you?"

The surprise in his face was genuine. _So, he was not told who he was staying with. Interesting. _He quickly recovered though; so fast it was as if he was never surprised in the first place. He smiled almost imperceptibly and bowed in acknowledgment.

"Un."

That was it. That was all I got. However, it spoke a thousand words. _I am fine, thank you for asking, Tonerre-san. How about you?_

"I'm fine as well."

Again, that surprised face. Well, far be it from me to call him on it.

_«Shall we head to the car?»_

Having asked, my butler's duties were done. He merely picked Morinozuka-san's luggage up and escorted us back to the limo, his small agile frame miraculously managing to part the crowd like Moses with the Red Sea. _Oh Paul, you're such a sweetheart. _Since starting last summer, he'd become my close friend and confidant. The typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed American, he'd come under our employment, seeking a job to help offset the cost of studying at the Universaire de la Paris, the University of Paris, where I also went. He was studying accounting and rented a flat downtown with Janelle, his pretty British girlfriend.

_«Yes, that is a good idea.»_ I answered. I started walking, but stopped when I saw Morinozuka-san still standing there. I realized he couldn't understand Paul's rapid French, a product of his mother's side. "Come, Morinozuka-san, we're going to the car."

That got him moving, and he started following. We reached the doors to the airport, stepped out into the weak spring light, and ducked into the limo. The next time I would see the airport would be in three months, though I did not know it then. Nor did I know just what would come of the letters. _This will be an interesting year._ I smirked, scooting over to my favorite spot by the window, not knowing how interesting the year would become, what fate had in store for me, or that the man now seated at the opposite window would soon enough become so much more than a houseguest.

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"Mon petit enfant, come in. C'est le temps pour le boum! Ichiru, oh Ichiru!"

Ichiru looked up from his book. _The party. He'd forgotten about the party. _He knew his mother was exaggerating. It was only three; the party didn't start until nine. However, he stood up, carefully holding the book, his pinky marking the page. He'd rush through dressing and hopefully spend the afternoon reading, dreading the possibility of stopping during the climax.

Ichiru. One thread. The red string of fate, such a Japanese belief. But it was the name his grandmother had chosen for him, it was her choice. A reminder of all that was, all that is, all that will be.

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**Author's Note:

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**So, how was it? Review enough, and I swear I'll update Friday. And I feel bad bribing you. However, I do have the day off then, so I'll probably get some writing done. Ah, bon chance!


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